


A Beetle-Juiced Christmas Carol

by BD_Z



Category: Beetlejuice (Cartoon 1989)
Genre: Christmas, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Past Character Death, Post Series, Post-Canon, Years Later, holiday story, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28298391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BD_Z/pseuds/BD_Z
Summary: Being grumpy and even more humbug than usual. A modern-day Beetlejuice has had enough of everyone pretending that everything is just fine. He is done with Christmas and all reminders of his past. So of course this means it's time to torment the Dickens out of the Ghost with the Most and introduce him to the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet to Come.This has been a story that needed to be told and it came 30 years late.
Relationships: Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz
Comments: 20
Kudos: 20





	1. Stave One: The Grumpy Old Ghost

Beetlejuice was dead, to begin with. There was no doubt he had been dead for over a millennium, and nothing phased him. He died alone. Lonely and with no one to care for him. Not even his family, who… was also dead. 

Granted, if he had been alive, it wouldn’t have been much different. At least he enjoyed the benefit of being a ghost and scaring the daylights out of the living. He was a happy spirit for a while, but he didn’t really seem to be all that full of life, figuratively speaking.

What remained of his miserable afterlife, what was his miserable existence, was nothing more than a crumbling Roadhouse and a couple of skittish neighbors. You may ask, what brought this ghost so much misery? Well, that would be the purpose of this story, but in essence, it comes down to one day. 

Christmas.

A season where family and friends get together to share their appreciation for the end of a year. Where lovers snuggle under the mistletoe or in front of a roaring fire, where the people who care about you present you with gifts and relax with a feast of delicacies smothered in secret sauces, or so he remembered; he no longer celebrated the season of bullshittery.

He banned decor in his roadhouse. Not so much with words but with all the nasty tricks that came from turning a Christmas tree into a pile of unwashed laundry or a pretty piece of holly into a monster that ate anything that came near. Even better, when either of his roommates started humming to a carol, he would consider it a signal to pull out all the stops on his pranks. They were worse. Much worse than they ever had been, but it didn’t matter. His roommates, too, were also dead.

The locals knew never to come to near his corner of the Neitherworld. Even the Monster Across the Street chose to spend his holidays away on vacation instead of in his own home with his equally monstrous wife. Good riddance, Beetlejuice didn’t need their graveling singing voices and good cheer anywhere near him. They were nothing but a nuisance with their romance and lovey-dovey disgustingness.

All in all, Charles Dickens and his creations in the Backstage of Beyond - though not all of them ended up there. Just the ones who went to stage, mind you - all of them felt that Ebenezer was not such a lost cause as this moldy lonely ghost. At least there was some love left in the Scrooge everyone knew, but with Beetlejuice, love only lasted a short time and in such a time… Well, I am getting ahead of myself. Narratives such as I still need to pace oneself in order to get to the actual story without spoilers. Spoilers, ugh, you know I hate them. 

Not to put too fine a point on the matter. Beetlejuice was Beetle-jerk in more ways than he ever had been before, and it was enough, legit enough, for intervention to be called upon, and when such things happen, there is only one thing left to do.

A classic adaptation of a beloved well-known story.

So just like with Ebenezer Scrooge, folks felt they would be much happier without Beetlejuice. No one wanted him around, and as such, just like with Scrooge, only one family member held out hope that the grumpy old ghoul would change his mind and join the family. 

Ever the optimist, Donny, Beetlejuice's brother, was raised not to think too much of his elder brother's cruelty. He knew that things could change; he had seen it happen first hand. He hoped, nay, _believed_ that Beetle would come around and embrace Christmas like he once had before. So when Donny rang the doorbell, knocked on the door, and called out a hearty warm greeting to be met with nothing, he just waltzed right into the Roadhouse. 

Beetlejuice was not surprised to see his brother standing there with a big grin wrapped in a thick warm scarf with a gift and an envelope containing yet another obnoxious Christmas card. He merely smirked at the carelessness of his favorite familial target. 

Meanwhile, Beetlejuice himself was reclining back on his lazy boy chair surrounded by beer cans and pizza boxes. He looked like he hadn’t bathed in a century, but that was not too far out of character for the ghost with the most. 

“Merry Christmas, dear Brother of mine!” Donny called out.

“And a merry screw you too,” Beetlejuice snapped back in return. “You can leave now that you got that out of your system.”

“Aww, Beetle. Don’t be so glum and humdrum.” 

Donny crossed the space between him and his layabout brother, bestowing a hug that lifted Beetlejuice out of his chair. Worse than being picked up and more vomit-inducing, Donny planted a loud comical, and sloppy smooch on his brother's cheek.

“Yeeeeech!” Beetlejuice screeched. “Get off! What the hell is wrong with you? Every year we go through this bullshit, and every year, you get more creepy with the hugs and gifs and - ugh- Kisses.” 

“It’s Christmas, dear brother. Don’t you have a little bit of cheer for the season left in that cold dead heart of yours? Why mine is overflowing with such warmth and tenderness. Mother and Father are setting up a Christmas dinner to celebrate the end of the year, and we have invited-”

“I don’t care who you invited! I would burn Christmas to the grown and shove spikes up the next caroler who knocks on my door's ass. Everyone who comes to me with a ‘Merry Christmas’ should be boiled alive or buried alive or exorcised for all I care! Mom, Dad, and you… Just do what you do without bothering me. And leave - ME - ALONE!”

Beetlejuice all but pushed Donny out the front door but was met with resistance. 

“Beetlejuice. You can say what you want about hating Christmas, but that wasn’t always true. Come now. You should join us. There is no point in moping around. Not since…”

“I said, get out!”

And with one final shove, Donny was thrown out the front door and into the driveway. He tumbled and rolled; he was perhaps a little dizzy, but otherwise, he was perfectly fine. Standing up, he dusted his clothes off and straightened his bowtie. He gave one last look in the direction of the Roadhouse and sighed. Next year. He would try again. He would not give up.

Meanwhile, inside the Roadhouse, Beetlejuice fumed. He kicked Donny’s gift to the corner of the living room where Lydia once decorated a Christmas tree in his home. But of course, Beetlejuice wouldn’t think about that. It was a long time ago. A very long time ago. It was in the past. One he would like to ignore and ignore he did. 

He went back to his recliner and cracked open another drink. Had he the humor, or the energy, no doubt he would mumble “Humbug,” but he wasn’t even interested in eating a single bug in this state. What’s the point? No one to gross-out… or make laugh. 

“You are a stubborn fool.” This voice came from inside his home. Behind him, in the archway of the halls. “You kick your brother out, and you treat your neighbors like ze scum of ze earth.”

Jaques Lalean was never afraid to speak his mind to his oldest friend in the Neitherworld. He hardly had much to fear anyway as he was nothing but bones. Besides, Beetlejuice has done it all, from burying him in the back hard to offering him up to a swarm of wild dogs. Nothing had worked; it merely annoyed or inconvenienced him. But it was times like this that really set the skeleton off.

He had his fill of Beetlejuice and his anti-Christmas destructive behavior. It had become so bad that Ginger was threatening to move out and live with the washed-out actors since they were far more pleasant than living in the Roadhouse. Jaques was having difficulty adjusting to the thought since she, too, was his long-time friend. 

“If you don’t like it, Bonehead, you can leave too. I don’t need any of ya.” 

There was little point in arguing, but it didn’t stop Jaques from trying. After all, they were friends. Best of friends even with the dirty low down tricks. 

“You don’t mean that. You are not a bad guy, just lonely. You should go with your family. They miss you.”

Beetlejuice snorted and shrugged off his roommate's concern. He was in no mood to continue this conversation. “Why don’t you go carol at a dog park, or better yet, the pound.”

A lost cause for sure, Jaques shook his head and sighed, “I wish there was something I could do to help you, Beetlejuice. You are more and more of a grinch every year.”

And with that final statement, Jaques left the ghost to mope around in his corner of the Neitherworld for yet another lonely Christmas Eve.

After a few more hours of sulking and eating junk food, Beetlejuice found himself dozing on his recliner with not a care in the world for how much his back was going to bitch at him in the morning. 

That was until the TV began to yell at him. “You! Yes, you! Beetlejuice!!”

Beetlejuice nearly flipped his recliner over as he jumped out from his seat. A startled cry retched from his throat while he tried to catch his heart that was trying to escape his grasp. Barry Me Not was looking right at him, wearing a Santa Hat and holding out a set of heavy chains. He did not find Beetlejuice's antics to be amusing.

In fact, he was downright put out that his regularly scheduled programming was disrupted by this narrator's attempt to push the plot along.

“You talkin’ to me?” Beetlejuice asked the commercial spokesperson, who continued to stare at him.

“Yes! You! Beetlejuice.” A graphic crossed the screen to remind the viewer that this was indeed the second time his name was said out loud. “Does the sound of holiday cheer make you wanna barf? Are you sick and tired of all the well-wishers and gift-givers coming to your door to try in vain to cheer you up? Do you want it all to stop?”

“Yes!” Beetlejuice screamed at the Tv. He flew across the room with an intense speed that nearly caused the tv stand to cave under the momentum. Not that it would matter as Beetlejuice held onto the tv with both hands, his eyes nearly glued to the screen. To be frank, it was over the top, but it mattered not since no one but the image of Barry could see him at this point.

“Well, nuts to you because tonight you will be visited by three, yes, Three spirits of Christmas. Past, Present, and Of Christmases yet to come.”

“Whaaaat?” Beetlejuice threw the tv back and recoiled. Half expecting the machine to crackle, smoke, or explode. Which, of course, it did not. Barry hardly looked phased by Beetlejuice’s careless regard for electronics.

“All three spirits will be visiting you tonight. Each with a message to bring but all with the goal to tell you to shape up and move on with your afterlife, or you too could find yourself in the lost soul's room without any hope of redemption. And we wouldn’t want that now, would we? Beetlejuice, this is your last chance to open up and accept the holiday invitations your friends and family have been extending to you. Come morning, who knows what may become of you?”

This message seemed to hit something within the ghost who now watched with horror at the visions of tormented souls, doomed by exorcism only to be recycled as sandworm chow periodically for as long as the spirit remained conscious of its own existence. A Hell in the Neitherworld if anyone ever saw one. 

Beetlejuice gulped down his fear and watched as Barry pushed all the sights away. He held out the chains again to show him what will happen. The chains had leaped out of Barry’s hands and onto a CG replica of the ghost who was being pulled down by the chains into a dark oblivion. It was enough for Beetlejuice’s hair to turn white with fear.

He began to chew his nails as image after image Sandworm teeth began to loop on screen. It was a cheesy scare tactic, but it seems to affect the Ghost that passed out on the floor of his living room. 

Barry once again pushed aside the imagery and nodded. His work was done. 

“This message was brought to you by the Spirits of Christmas, Charles Dickens, and the archival network of fanworks and associate creators. Have a happy new year.”

With those last words, the television shut itself off, leaving Beetlejuice alone to await his first spirit.


	2. Stave Two: The Spirit of Christmas Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The past is another land. Far beyond our reach" - Aida, By Tim Rice and Elton John
> 
> The Spirit of Christmas Past brings back some of the more painful memories of Beetlejuices past. Be warned this is a very sad chapter.

When Beetlejuice awoke, it was dark, so dark that he forgot where he was for a moment before his back began to nag. He was still on the floor wearing his sloppiest of loungewear. Not like he was trying to impress anyone.

Who would care that he wore his shorts and a stained shirt? It’s not like anyone was going to summon him to the world of the living randomly. Not on Christmas anyway. Ugh, Christmas. He could do well with forgetting that it was the season of “love and happiness.” Nothing but bad memories and a hangover awaited him come morning. However, right this moment, Beetlejuice was more concerned with his own comfort.

He floated up to his room, thinking about his latest hallucination. Why would Barry Me Not be talking to him? Things haven’t been that coincidental since… Nah. It was just a dream. He drank too much again, and someone probably slipped something healthy to him without his consent. 

Either way, He was just about ready to crash for good in his own bed when he caught sight of his bedroom clock. Past Midnight. No wonder his back was killing him. Figuratively, of course. Nothing could really kill him, except maybe for exorcism and the digestive system of the sandworms. No one wants to live that experience more than once. Not many spirits survive their encounter with the monstrous beasts.

As he began to settle back into his coffin, blankets up to his chin, he felt a breeze blow past him. Then he was hit with light. 

“Hey! What’s the big idea?!” He hollered as he squinted into the glow of light. Soon, he realized that it was coming from the top of the head of a strange ghost he had never seen before. This spirit, a figure so small yet held the wisdom of someone much more ancient. Definitely someone with a higher maturity level than the Ghost with the Most.

“What do you want?” Beetlejuice snarled at the spirit who did nothing more than share a sad smile at the state in which she found her target.

Though many have speculated and shared their view of the origins of this entity, she was neither masculine nor purely feminine but that of a delicate essence. For the sake of her current Humbug, she took on the form of a face, familiar yet different. A face he could trust. A youth from his own past but not from his childhood. The only face that would keep the Spirit of Christmas past from being thrown out into the snow. 

It didn’t seem to have the effect the spirit wanted, so it manipulated the features just enough to erase the memory. After all, there would be plenty of time for open wounds soon enough.

“I believe you were told to expect me.” The spirit said in a voice so soothing that it somehow managed to disarm Beetlejuice. He huffed and tried to pull his blanket up around him to avoid the reality that he was, in fact, not hallucinating the TV spokesperson's message. 

“You ain’t getting me outta bed, and there is no way in hell I am going along with this cliche Christmas bullshit!” Beetlejuice pulled the blankets up over his head in defiance, but it hardly mattered. It seemed the Ghost of Christmas Past was already prepared for such a reaction. She had, after all, been doing this for nearly 177 years since the story was first published in the land of the living.

“It’s time Beetlejuice. You should dress warmer. You never know who you will meet.” 

The spirit grabbed ahold of the dead man’s hand just as Beetlejuice began to holler out. “I’m not going through with THIIIIIIIIIIS.”

They were off, out the bedroom window and into a whirl of snow and light that nearly made Beetlejuice spew. Luckily he held it in and looked around. Then he recoiled. It was his old life. His school-age self standing in the snow wearing as much cloth as he could manage. His brother stood beside him. Flush with life. LIFE.

They were both alive.

Beetlejuice stopped struggling and watched in amazement at how the two of them looked. No hooked nose. No pointed ears. Skin with blood rushing through their veins and bellies thin since they were of the poor working class. He could see his mother and father in a run-down but fairly secure old house while Beetlejuice sulked outside on an old bent and slightly decaying log. 

“ Bea... Beet... Beetle.… Achoo” 

“What are you doing there, Brother?” Donny asked as he took a seat beside the young Beetlejuice. 

“I’m trying to make my name sound less stupid.” The boy grumbled as he kicked a clump of snow with his toe.

“There is nothing wrong with your name. Bea, It’s just like mom.”

Beetlejuice grumbled to himself before saying out loud. “That’s the problem. How’s a guy supposed to be taken seriously when he has the name of his _mother.”_

Beetlejuice snickered at his younger self. “The kid has a point.” He said to the spirit next to him. “I hated my name so much. Mom was all for having a girl, but of course, when Donny and I popped out… Yeah, being the oldest landed me with that one. Mom didn’t seem to know or care that it was humiliating me, but Don knew. Damn him.”

The spirit turned to him quizzically. The two young human boys continued their conversation. Donny helped him come up with something to help cheer up his elder brother.

“Why are you so quick to damn him? He’s your brother, and he seems to genuinely care.”

“He’s always happy and giving and… nurturing. He might as well have had my name. After all, he was our parents' favorite.”

“You seem so certain of this?” The Spirit waved her hand, and the light shifted. The landscape was still frozen, but the night air had a feeling far more gloomy than the crisp air of the land of the dead. “Donny was loved, this is true, but do you not recall how distraught your family was the night you left them behind? When you were gone, and no one could find you.”

“The last night? Nah, I was too angry to care. They had each other, and I had just lost my…” Beetlejuice looked like he might just be sick. He remembered something he buried deep down somewhere he had hoped would never resurface. But it did, and he felt his heartbreaking all over again.

Around them, the wind blew, but neither could feel the cold. However, both noticed a cloaked and hooded man in a carriage being pulled by a horse. The cart's flat back held a figure covered in a sheet, and immediately Beetlejuice knew who it was. This was that night he gave it all up. He was done, gone. Dead.

The cart stopped in front of a house, and the man knocked on the door. His hood came off, revealing Donny, who was looking far thinner and sadder than Beetlejuice had ever seen him. Alive or dead.

The door opened, and his frail aging mother stood there. Alone. Beetlejuice remembered how his father had passed not long before leaving Donny to care for their mother. Donny never had a family of his own, Beetlejuice remembered. It was a sad existence, but that happened far too often in those days. Families just didn’t last as long as they should have.

But of course, this was much worse. Beetlejuice had it all. He had a wife, and he had a child on the way, but they didn’t survive. He was lost soon after all of that in a world of gambling and heavy drinking. Not unlike how he was currently behaving, he mused to himself. Figures.

The Spirit guided Beetlejuice into the house to see the past that he wouldn’t remember. After all, Beetlejuice of that time could hardly be concerned for the lives of his brother and mother. He wanted only one thing. He wanted his wife back and so he began the mission that would land him into owning the power he currently had. Though it had led him nowhere. He never found them. The child's spirit was long reincarnated into another baby and sent to live a life Beetlejuice would never have known while his wife, his childhood best friend, a name he could barely remember, and it hurt that he couldn’t bring it to the surface.

“Dearest Mother, I’m so sorry.” Donny cried as he took the tiny woman into his arms, apologizing quickly for the chill he let into the house. “I brought him home. I’ll bury him tonight. Next to Rowena and the baby.”

“Rowena.” The words felt strange and yet familiar on Beetlejuice’s lips. The plague had taken her from them all. He remembered suddenly why his brother was never married. They both vied for her affections, and it was Donny who relented and let them build a life. Donny who loved them all and Donny who interned his body.

“Your brother loves you, Beetlejuice. Didn’t you know that? Didn’t _she_ tell you?” The Spirit asked him, but Beetlejuice was peeking outside the back wall to look at his family's graves behind the house. The Spirit cleared her throat to get his attention, and he pulled his head back through the solid wood and stone structure. 

“Rowena cared about him. She always told me to be nicer.” Beetlejuice mumbled to himself as he watched his brother and mother mourn. It was surreal to see this last bit of his past life. 

“I wasn’t talking about Rowena. Rest her soul. She had no regrets and moved on with her afterlife. She had to when she realized that you would not be joining her in the great beyond.”

“I didn’t kill myself!” Beetlejuice screamed at the Spirit, breaking the spell that kept this shadow of his past in their view. The light swirled around them while the Spirit regarded him with pity. 

“You may as well have,” The Spirit showed a brief flash of Beetlejuice's time working for Afterlife affairs before he was granted the afterlife version of a new life. He and his brother once again got to be kids and were raised by their parents, reunited in the Neitherworld. He saw some brief Christmas eves where he tried to prank Santa Clause, and Donny tried to save their good names. The visions swirled around until it settled onto one of the worst holidays in his memory.

They landed back at Beetlejuice’s old High School, where everything felt like it was trapped in the 1950s. Ah, what a time. He was in classes with Jacques and Ginger while Donny was off with the other smart goody two-shoe kids. This was the year he was going to graduate. He never told L-... no, he wasn’t going there. Not tonight. He already had one heartbreak ripped open; he didn’t need another.

Though from the rate this spirit was going, he didn’t know if he would be able to avoid seeing her face again. 

“Do you remember this day?”

Beetlejuice looked around and grinned. This was a good night indeed. The Mid Winter Formal, where he met the girl of his afterlife. He didn’t remember her name, but damn, was that a good night. She got him but try as he might, he forgot her name and face as well. Time was indeed a bitch when it came to his memory.

“Bringing back old memories, Do I at least get to watch the dirty deeds being done?” Beetlejuice cackled and rubbed his hands together. 

Bemused by the commentary, the Spirit nudged Beetlejuice so that he could see the girl who came into the room. She was stunning. She was flush with life, and she was… No. It can’t be!

“Time is a strange creature, just like me and my other spirits. This is a story you did not forget; it was not written for you to remember. This was all her. The girl who you cared so much about found a loophole into your past and snuck her way into your heart so deep you couldn’t get her out even if you tried.”

“How!?” Beetlejuice rushed forward but stopped when he saw his gangly teen self approach this teenage vision of his closest and dearest friend. His Babes. His Lydia.

“A story for another time, should the author find the motivation to get around to it” Yes indeed, The Spirit was not above breaking the fourth wall, especially when it came to this franchise.

“Babes,” Beetlejuice croaked out and tried to approach the young couple. He wanted this memory so badly. But it began to fade as the girl turned to the younger version of himself and embraced him without disgust or fear. The only girl who ever got him and the one who tormented his mind for longer than he cared to admit.

As the scene began to change, Beetlejuice protested rather loudly at this cruel tease. He wanted to know. He needed to know. What changed!? Why was she there? Where did this all go wrong?

Once again, they were surrounded by memories of Christmases; this time, they involved a small raven haired child. A girl who cracked him up in more ways than one. They showed each year pass and passed it did from age eleven to fourteen with no hiccups in their relationship. Then fifteen came, and they saw a difference. Lydia had stopped his accidental shot-gum wedding to some broad he didn’t even know. Then the final one, Lydia, age seventeen. She looked at him with such sadness when he talked to her that year. 

She reached out to him, and he flinched, remembering how he had just treated her like she was still a silly kid. In truth, she was just that. A kid, but he hadn’t noticed how she had changed and how she changed him.

Lydia came to him with a Christmas gift that year. One that was much more reasonable than their typical silly exchange. It was a card and an address on it. When he asked, she had said it was so he could extend his haunting limits since she was now of age and wasn’t locked into their initial poltergeist contract. 

This had shocked him. 

“Beetlejuice. I’m not a kid anymore. We can’t keep sharing energy like we used to. It’s going to sap away at my life force. And besides, what If I choose to fall in love and get married one day. I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck around me so that you could visit the land of the living.” Lydia laughed, thinking she had made a clever joke.

Beetlejuice had not found it funny at all. “Fall in love? With who?”

“I don’t know. Anyone really?” She laughed but stopped when she saw his fury. “Beej?”

“You are not going. You can’t leave the house. I won’t allow it.” He was quickly getting worked up. “No, you can’t. We just got things going, and it’s going to be a fun year. We have all this traveling to do and not to mention the outer nether regions where it almost touches the Other Side! THE OTHER SIDE! You can’t miss that. Babes.”

“Beetlejuice. I never said we were not going to have those trips.” Both the older Beetlejuice and his spirit companion watched Lydia grow even more confused. Like she had something she wanted to share but stopped just short. It was like she was faltering, and Beetlejuice would have given anything to throw a brick at his younger self.

This was their tipping point.

“You are not going anywhere. You will not grow up, and you are definitely not going to fall in ...yech… love! I don’t know where you got that idea from, but no one is taking you from me.”

“I never said-”

Beetlejuice, the younger version, zapped himself out of the conversation before it could even be finished. He had dropped the card with the address and request for contract renewal. Lydia knelt on the floor and picked it up. She held it for a while longer than normal for a silly argument like this, but something seemed to flip for her.

Lydia started to cry as she picked herself up and placed the card on the vanity. She sat at the edge of her bed and pulled out a secret pile of photos. Photos of herself and an even younger Beetlejuice. Teenagers together. For the only time in their existence, they were on equal ground.

“Oh, Babes. I didn’t know.” Beetlejuice tried to comfort the girl, but his hand went through her. 

“You can’t touch her. She isn’t really here. She is only a shadow.” 

His heart was nearly being ripped apart in his chest when he realized from that point forward; nothing would ever be the same for them. He had closed himself off to her, shut her out, and waited for Lydia to come to him, but she never did. 

One year, two years, passed... then five, and Lydia did what she said might happen. She found someone and fell in love. She got married, and Beetlejuice ignored it even though he knew what was happening. He could feel their bond breaking with every step away from him she took.

Then one day, it snapped.

All around Beetlejuice, he could feel the world shifting again, and in his panic, he tried to stop the spirit. He didn’t need to see this. This was what he couldn’t handle. This, he was not ready for, but he was unable to stop the shift in magic, and Beetlejuice found himself being thrown back down to the ground as the spirit raised herself above him. 

“Don’t be such a child, Beetlejuice. You are above such things.” 

Upon seeing Beetlejuice curled in a ball, The Spirit had to amend her words. It turns out he was much more childish than she gave him credit for. It was a good thing that this was not her usual holiday stop.

“I CAN’T SEE THIS! DON’T MAKE ME!”

“Beetlejuice!” This voice was hers, and it was filled with a horror he never ever wanted to hear. He heard the scream, but he didn’t get to come to her. Their bond was too weak, and she hadn’t called on him for so long. She was terrified, and yet no more words were able to escape her lips as the attacker had his hands over her mouth. She was being pulled into the darkness. Not even a month after her birthday and she was being snuffed out like the light on top of The Spirit of Christmas Past’s head. 

Christmas Day. Lydia was thirty years old, and she was dead.

Beetlejuice cried. He actually cried when he saw how her body was just left there in a dark alley. Alone but beautiful in her demise. She could never be anything but beautiful in his eyes, even as her fire was extinguished. All hope of reconciling gone. He never found her after that. 

“She didn’t deserve this!” Beetlejuice cried out while he knelt beside his Lyds, taking in the moment he never got to say goodbye. He never saw her grow up and he never had the bravery to witness her death. Perhaps worst of all, he never got to see her grave.

All he got was a telegram telling him his contract with Deetz was null and void. He was no longer allowed to haunt Peaceful Pines or the house where they first met. He knew she had to be somewhere in the Afterlife, so he never bothered with trying to fight his new status as a mere Neitherworld resident. Where else could she be? She was dead.

But inquiry after inquiry left him with very little to do. People hated him, and no one would help him. Small head kicked him out, and he was now banned from bothering those that work in the departments. It was a mess, and it became worse and worse every year since. She should be forty-three this year, but no.. it wasn’t to be. Now she was forever thirty and lost to him. He never got to apologize to her.

He couldn’t handle it, and he lashed out at the Spirit who stood beside Lydia’s lifeless body with very little remorse. The spirit's face shifted to be that of the young woman on the ground, and Beetlejuice growled. 

“Don’t you dare take her face! I saw glimpses of her the moment you came in but _don't_ you dare take this face. I can’t. You can’t. No. I won’t let you.”

With a speed he thought he lost during his decade long mourning period, Beetlejuice launched himself at the Spirit of Christmas Past, who squealed and zipped away. She hovered a distance, her light no longer bright and in his face as it once was. The vision of Lydia’s body faded, and he was back in his room. His breathing hard and labored but with no outlet for his remaining aggression; Beetlejuice used all his strength to flip his coffin bed over, shattering the bedside lamp and knocking Lydia’s portrait off his wall. 

Her young face looked up at him from the frame with adoration and admiration from that long ago image, but all he could see was how he had let her down.

The Spirit of Christmas Past had shattered him and opened all the wounds he thought he had buried eons ago, but as with most lies he told himself, they would never go away. 


	3. Stave Three: The Spirit of Christmas Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If there's anything worse than knowing too little, it's knowing too much... " George Horace Lorimer
> 
> After a devastating reminder of all the things that went wrong in Beetlejuice's past, he will now learn the truth of his current state, but knowing too much might be too much to bear.

Sometime later, Beetlejuice found himself in near stifling darkness. The light of the past having left and the night progressing on. His face ached from the hours in which he cried as he remembered those horrible moments of the years gone by. When sleep finally did claim him, it lasted only a short while, but it was enough to bring him back to some semblance of the Ghost he had long left behind. 

He had forgotten what it was like to have people care about him. To see them care about him, and it was even more jarring to remember how he treated Donny earlier that day and every year since he lost Lydia. He was such a heel. 

Sitting up in his coffin bed, unsure how he had even gotten back into bed in the first place. His last memories had been of him on the floor curled up in a ball. He mourned for Lydia, for Rowena… for himself. He had a lot to make up for, but he knew it wasn’t over. Not if Barry’s message was to be true. After all, he knew the pattern. He didn’t have to like it, but he knew what was coming next. The best thing he had going for him this time around was no death to fear. No kiddo’s about to bite the big one because he was going to be a stingy bastard.

Honestly, he had no idea what to expect from the next spirit, but he would find out, and it looks like he would find out sooner rather than later.

A light shone from under the doorway outside his bedroom. He winced at the sudden glow but refused to shy away from it. Not now. Nothing could hurt him more than what he just witnessed. Seeing his family and friends, seeing Lyds. It gave him a nudge that he had desperately needed. Not that he would admit it. I mean, after all, this is Beetlejuice. 

Still, he was able to move from the confines of his blankets and force himself to the door but what met him upon opening was not his house. Or rather, it was, but it wasn’t as he had left it. This was the Roadhouse after Lydia was done decorating it. When she and Ginger turned the gross shit hole of the Roadhouse into an even creepier shit hole. There was a tree, of course, and garlands with bats and spiders. Decorative webs all over the room sparkled like tinsel, and a raging flame was burning in the fireplace. Beetlejuice couldn’t believe it, and not even cartoon logic could explain how his room suddenly became attached to the living room. As he looked around, he heard a hearty chuckle before he spotted the second spirit—the Ghost of Christmas Present.

The Spirit was large, covered in a green robe exposing his bare chest while he had a wreath surrounding his head. He was looking rather cheerful, and that really set a bad taste in Beetlejuice's mouth. Worse than usual. 

“Come on in and know me better, man,” The Spirit chortled at the Beetlejuice's discombobulated state. “Mind you; you might want to pick up your jaw from the ground before you trip on it.”

Beetlejuice grasped his jaw before it could fall any further than it had, though it hardly even touched the floor, and he leveled a dark look at the Spirit for cracking such a joke. This was his story, and he was the literal translation guy. He wasn’t used to be upstaged.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Beetlejuice grumbled.

“In a rush, I see. Slow down, enjoy the pleasures of the present. Come, I hear you have a fondness for chocolate-covered beetles.” The Spirit presented a wrapped gift box of the delicacy only Beetlejuice would enjoy. However, it remained hovering between the two ghosts, with neither making a move to claim the prize.

“Go on now. I happen to know this is your favorite gift. Several of my elder brothers have seen you overindulge in more than a few boxes on Christmas day.” But when Beetlejuice still refused to move, the Spirit set the box aside and vanished away all the decor surrounding him. 

Beetlejuice felt the loss of the festive trimmings but continued to say nothing as he watched the Spirit move around like he owned the place. 

“Perhaps it was not the gift so much as it was the one who gave you the gift. Anyway, as you said, Let us ‘get this over with’” The Spirit chuckled and raised his arms. Just like with the first spirit, the world around them swirled with vivid colors and light before they found themselves in another living quarters. Not one Beej recognized; however he did recognize the people. His roommates.

Jaques and his boney family laughed and cheered with good humor as the clanking of skeletons dancing mingled with the sounds of the holiday music. Ginger, too was among the crowd of revelers, tap dancing her little feet off. 

“So who’s shindig is this?” Beetlejuice chuckled as he looked around. The place was jumping, literally in some places. 

“Your neighbors never stopped enjoying the holidays. They just moved to a new location.” 

Figures, Beetlejuice thought as he watched the partygoers feast and dance. Even the Monster and Monstress from across the street were there with their little mutts. The urge to kick the dog filled him, but when he tried, his foot went right through Poopsie, and Beetlejuice landed on his ass.

The Spirit laughed, nearly toppling over himself. “Oh, Beetlejuice, you silly fool. You are nothing but a shadow visiting a place you were not invited.”

“Not invited? I didn’t even ask to come here. What am I supposed to see? These deadbeats ain’t got nothing for me.”

Beetlejuice dusted himself off and crossed his arms. He glared at everyone having such a good time without him. Ginger had stopped dancing and met up with the Monsters.

“Glad you two could make it!” She trilled and tried her best to greet them with her tiny spider arms. They were far too big to embrace, but the gesture was enough for both Monster and Monstress.

“Aw, you know we wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Monster chuckled. “Vacation is all well and good, but nothing beats spending time with your friends.”

“Ain't’ that the truth.” Ginger giggled and hiccuped. “Oops, I must have had a little too much to drink. Please, join us in the dancing. The Laleans really know how to throw a party.”

The Spirit analyzed Beetlejuice's sour expression and smirked. This seems to be exactly what he needed to see. Life moving on, or rather Afterlife moving on and doing well without him. It may seem cruel, but sometimes that is what existence is, and if Beetlejuice wanted to be part of any existence, he needed to know what he was missing out on.

“Ginger!” Jaques called when he spotted the three friends together. “‘Ave you told them? About Ze Juice party?”

Beetlejuice flinched, “Donny’s party?” 

He turned to look at the Spirit for confirmation, to which he received nothing more than a knowing grin. Beetlejuice shook off his jealousy and annoyance to watch the scene unfold.

“Juice? Is Beetlejuice going to be there?” The Monster laughed, soon joined by his wife. Beetlejuice, of course, bristled at this. What would they say if he did show up at his brother's party?

“I hope so. We keep trying to get him to show up, but he won’t find out the truth until he does. Donny was finally able to convince her to come to see the family,” Ginger was grinning wider than usual. 

“She?” Monstress asked, “You don’t mean?”

“Oui, indeed it is so. Every year they invite her to the party, but she only visits for a short while. We all know how hard this time of year is on her, but she does try to keep her spirits up… But I fear until he shows up and attempts to make a change…”

Beetlejuice watched as they all went silent. Each of them had a look of sadness cross their features. A loss was upon them, and their words were left hanging in a thick fog of mutual understanding. 

“What are they talking about?” Beetlejuice asked. He was getting frustrated and slightly a little more hopeful than he should be when he had no idea what exactly was going on. 

“You, of course.” 

He gave the Spirit a withering ‘no shit?’ expression and returned to the conversation. He felt he was missing a key element here.

Monstress and Ginger broke off for a moment to mingle with the other ladies in the party while Jaques and Monster continued to talk. Jaques looked like he was about to deliver some sad news to The Monster, but as he had no lungs to take a deep breath, his shoulder rose and fell, joints clicking as he waved his companion over to take a seat with him.

“He’s not doing well, mon ami.” Jaques shook his head as he regaled Monster of their last interaction.

Beetlejuice winced at the description of how he efficiently threw both Jaques and his brother out of his life not so very long ago. He sounded like such a demon, but he figured it could have been worse. His anger and rage could have done more damage. He could have said things with much more venom. It was in him to do these things though he feared what that level of darkness would do to him.

Where such a state of mental being would send his own ghostly essence. 

“He’s not gonna last much longer, and I take it?” Monster sighed and patted Jaques on his scapula and backbone. Or so it looked, Jaques wasn’t exactly dressed like his everyday jock self. 

The air around the two friends began to ripple and shift as the Spirit began to take them to a new location.

“Am I really that close to oblivion?” Beetlejuice mumbled to himself. 

“Close enough. I predict you might be seeing the inside of the Lost Souls room sooner than you would like if you don’t change the shadows that darken your being.” With a wave of his hand Beetlejuice and he were now transported to a home he knew far, far better. A home he left when he was finally able to rent the Roadhouse.

His family home. His mother bustled around the house, fixing the ornaments and fixtures of their holiday decor. She beamed with pride at her son Donny and hugged him when he entered the room. He held an armful of gifts, which he moved aside so he could better embrace the woman who brought him into both worlds.

“Mother, I am so glad we are able to host the party here. I am sure she is going to love it.”

“Oh, I do hope so, Dear.” Bea flitted around the room with merriment. “It will be so wonderful to see her again. The poor dear. All alone in the neitherworld throughout the year. I do wish she would come by more often. But at least we can have her on Christmas.”

“Such a wonderful time of year.” Donny agreed.

“Absolutely wonderful.”

Beetlejuice nearly tripped over his feet when he heard her voice. “Lyds!”

“Yes, It’s her,” The Spirit confirmed with a chuckle. “She has been here all along.”

“But! No one said anything!” Beetlejuice wanted to scream and rage. He wanted to flip a table or scream at Donny, but it wouldn’t do since no one but the smug Spirit of Christmas Present was there to watch him throw a tantrum that would end all tantrums.

“They couldn’t, and if you would pay attention.” The Spirit gently chided him though Beetlejuice would have none of it. 

“Oh Lydia Dear, I’m so glad you could join us for the party. Why the change of heart?” Bea embraced Lydia, who had grown much taller since Beetlejuice had last seen them together. She was still thin but was much more womanly than he could ever imagine. Not even seeing her fully grown in the vision of her darkest hour could prepare him for her lure. 

Lydia dressed in red and her hair tied up in a knot, exposing the curve of her neck and bare shoulders. Her skin, nearly ivory with the lack of blood in her system. She wasn’t as blue as he had expected her to be, nor was she sporting a rich purple like many others in the Neitherworld. In fact, Lydia looked so much more of a ghost than he expected, but he couldn’t deny that she was radiant. 

His throat went dry when she turned to face him and step closer to him. Suddenly he felt self-conscious dressed the way he was and shifted himself into a robe to cover his stained shirt and boxers. The Spirit beside him looked amused at the change in Beetlejuice at just the mere sight of his old friend and yet even more so when he saw the disappointment on the ghost’s face when she passed him to embrace Donny. 

“Donny, I’m so sorry it took me so long. I couldn’t find it in myself to stick around. It’s too painful. It’s literally, physically painful.” She spoke with such gentle tones that she nearly broke Beetlejuice’s resolve not to throttle the spirit and break the spell that held them. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to, but he was so afraid to show himself to her. Suddenly the idea of being invisible was looking good. 

“Dear sweet Lydia,” Donny comforted her, and Beetlejuice flinched at the familiarity. How long had this been going on? “You are always welcome here. This is your home as much as it is ours.”

“I know. You have all been good to me since I crossed but, he won’t let me in. He’s shut out so much that I can’t feel welcome anywhere in this part of the afterlife.” Lydia noticed Beetlejuice's father joining the others, and she brightened up considerably. She always had a soft spot for this family and even more so for Mr. Gnat Juice. He was the strong rock of the Juice family, and Lydia had always appreciated a father figure's strength. She must have missed her own father, Beetlejuice realized. He wasn’t even sure if Chuck and Mrs. D were among the living or if they too moved on. For all Beetlejuice knew, they could be haunting the house in Peaceful Pines. 

“Junior blocks a lot of his emotions out, but he will come around. As stubborn as he is…”

“Yes, Father, this is true, Beetle is very stubborn, but he’s reaching the end. He’s fading away, and he refuses to see it.”

Lydia sighed and wrapped her arms around herself tighter. “Is there nothing we can do?”

“I’m sorry, dear sister.” Donny shook his head, “But when Beetlejuice refused to end the contract of his own terms, he’s been drawing on his own energy. Until he breaks free from the cycle, he’s going -”

“Please don’t say it, Donny.” Lydia pleaded. “I can’t lose him again.”

“But dear Lydia, we just might. If only we could tell him you were with us.”

At this, Beetlejuice jumped up, trying to shake his brother to ask, ‘ _ why _ ?’ Why hadn’t they said anything? Why did no one say Lydia was here in this world where he could easily reach out and touch her?

“It seems your family knew more than you about the curse you put on both yourself and the girl you so carelessly abandoned.” All humor was draining from the Spirit. He no longer looked amused at the ghost's antics and wild mood swings. Beetlejuice was about to throw a well-aimed bit of juice but stopped short when he saw the Spirit's new look. He was withering, aging, and looking far grimmer. In truth, it was terrifying to see the changes. This formerly jolly spirit was turning into a wraith as most of his brothers had when their day was nearing an end. 

“What curse? Lydia wasn’t cursed.” 

Lights began to dim and swirl, and while Beetlejuice began to protest, the Spirit of Christmas Present placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and forced him to pay attention to himself. 

“You cursed that child the moment you met her. You signed her up for a poltergeist contract and had been feeding off her essence since she first summoned you with her spell. You shared your juice, your power with a girl who knew nothing of the power of life and death. All she needed was a friend and you took things much farther than you should have by binding her to you. How is that fair for any mortal, let alone a young girl with nothing more than faith in someone she saw as her best and closest friend,” The Spirit shoved Beetlejuice backward into the abyss that surrounded them, “But you, Beetlejuice - YOU refused to alter the contract, and when she lost her ability to host you as her spiritual companion, you continued to suck the life force from her. All the way up till the day her time ran out.”

Beetlejuice flinched, refusing to let the words land a hit. He backed away from the growing tower of the Spirit before him. He grew taller and taller, taking up more and more room while all the mirth and joy began to recede into the shadows of the Spirits past. And as such, the light surrounding them began to fade.

“Now, you refuse to let her go. To let go of the last remaining energy between you two while your spectral traces are diminishing. You fade, and she grows more distant. She can move on without you, but you can not move on without her. Soon, Beetlejuice, soon. You will meet your next level of existence. You will meet the final Spirit of the night, and may Heaven and Hell have mercy on your pitiful soul.”

With one final thundering cackle, the Spirit of Christmas Present abandoned Beetlejuice to the darkness. Leaving him to the mercy of a fate unknown and the knowledge that he was indeed responsible for the gloomy outlook of what may yet to come. 


End file.
